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We see. We feel. We believe that things “exist”. And then we philosophize on what “existence” means. And in order to do that we attempt to see what “seeing” is. We try to model reality only to realize that reality continuously escapes us. We analyze things only to see that too much analysis destroys their original meaning. Complicated? Or too simple?

What exists is what we Write...

An ancient poem by Parmenides said it thousands of years ago…

«οὐδέ ποτ’ ἦν οὐδ’ ἔσται, ἐπεὶ νῡν ἐστιν ὁμοῡ πᾱν, ἓν, συνεχές»

(it neither is, nor it will be, because it is now all together, ONE, continuous)